The clouds of care began the dolefull night,
Which did eclipse the shine of her delight.
13.
Then the deare daies of her dread lord were done,
The stroke of death no mortall may withstand,
The kingdome Harrold his ignoble sonne,
The bastard did aspire, by whose command
Our wretched mother was exil’d the land,
And in despight despoil’d of all that store,
Which her Canute had giuen to her before.